The Board of Trustees of Hampshire College in Massachusetts orderedthe U.S. flag on campus lowered to half-staff after the presidential election
“to acknowledge the grief and pain experienced by so many.” The school’s
president explained that lowering the flag was supposed to promote “meaningful
and respectful dialogue.” The school then decided to take the flag down
because—unsurprisingly—lowering the flag in reaction to a presidential election
did nothing to promote respectful dialogue. The school’s leaders are now
considering “how we fly the flag going forward.

Where to begin?

In a nation of many colors and creeds, the flag is one of
the few symbols that unites us to something bigger than ourselves. Symbols like
the flag and civic rituals like voting and standing for the National Anthem
remind us, in some small way, that we are connected by something more than our
iPhones.

Speaking of voting, I had concerns about both major-party
candidates (see hereand here).
Hence, I did not cast my ballot for either. In 26 years of voting, I’ve been on
the losing side more often than not. Even so, I understand—like most Americans—that
the election of a president is never reason to lower the American flag to
half-staff. Presidents have ordered the flag lowered after natural disasters
and man-made carnage, after the loss of astronauts reaching for space and the
loss of soldiers fighting for civilization, after a day of infamy in 1941 and
“a day of fire”
in 2001. Presidents do so to remind us that there is a time to mourn.

Regardless of the message some cocooned group of academics is
trying to send, the election of a president is the very opposite of such a time.
The peaceful transfer of power—the bloodless revolution that occurs every four
or eight years in America—is something to celebrate.

So revered was Washington that he could have been president
for life. But by resisting the temptation to amass personal power, by surrendering
his office, Washington made it clear to his successors and his countrymen that
no president is bigger than the republic. Just as Washington set lasting
precedents in how he left office, Jefferson set lasting precedents in how he entered
office. Jefferson’s election marked the nation’s first transfer of power from
one party to another. It was a peaceful transfer of power largely because Jefferson
calmed his supporters and waited for the system to work. “We are all
Republicans, we are all Federalists,” he said poignantly in his inaugural, thus
laying the foundation for a political system where winners are not coronated
like kings and losers are not treated like conquered foes.

Americans don’t delay presidential elections or extend presidential
terms because of world wars or civil wars or electoral stalemates. Look around
the world and scan the history books; this is rare and precious and wondrous.
But here it is commonplace.

Special

Not long ago, in a foretaste of what Hampshire College did, Goshen
College decided to ban “The Star Spangled Banner.” The school declared that the
National Anthem was—suddenly—“inconsistent” with its values. A statementexplained that the board of trustees wanted an alternative that “resonates with
Goshen College’s core values and respects the views of diverse constituencies.”
A Goshen studentnoted that she and her classmates “appreciate America but also don’t want to
have that violence.”

In fact, “The Star Spangled Banner” is not about violence.
It’s about freedom and peace. Just read Francis Scott Key’s poem.

“Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light what so
proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?” Key was asking if the flag was still
flying—and more specifically, if his country was still free. After all, his
homeland was under attack. And when he learned that “our flag” was “still
there,” he was overjoyed. “Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first
beam, in full glory reflected now shines in the stream: ‘Tis the star-spangled
banner! Oh long may it wave o’er the land of the free and the home of the
brave!”

To be sure, Key penned the poem after a battle, and we can
gather from context that he didn’t view war as the enemy. But he wasn’t glorifying
war or violence. In fact, he was celebrating his freedom and his country’s
independence from an enemy that brought “the havoc of war” to America’s shores.

It may not mean much to those who confuse moral relativism
for wisdom, but freedom and peace aren’t preserved by protest marches, UN
resolutions, academic lectures, Wall Street or Wal-Mart. They are preserved by
warriors. As Key knew firsthand—and as they have proven repeatedly in the centuries
since—America’s warriors are not enemies of peace.

In fact, it’s America’s military that has kept the peace and
prevented great-power war for 70-plus years. Too many Americans take this for granted; we take our security
for granted; we take our freedom for granted.

For those who exult in political freedom, the U.S. military
is freedom’s greatest defender. Think about it:

The U.S. military provides a security umbrella to more than
50 nations, keeps the sea lanes open, polices the
world’s toughest neighborhoods, and serves as civilization’s first
responder and last line of defense. Ukraine, Poland and the Baltics want
America’s help preserving their freedom. The Iraqi government begged America to
return in 2014. Libyans appealedto the U.S. for protection in 2011. Korea and Kuwait, Jordan and Japan, count
on U.S. troops to maintain regional stability—and their sovereignty—in the face
of menacing neighbors. From Germany to Georgia, those who remember a Europe of
concrete walls and iron curtains want U.S. forces on their soil as a hedge
against Russia. And across the Asia-Pacific, those who fear China’s rise are
strengthening their U.S. ties.

Critics of American power may refuse to recognize this
special role, but by turning to the U.S. when tyrants are on the march, when
terrorists strike, when free government teeters in some faraway nation, when
chaos overtakes a friendless place, they are conceding that the United States
is, well, special.

For those who value the freedom to worship or not worship, it
is the U.S. military that protects us from enemies who would either stamp out
all faiths or force submission to one faith.

Consider what ISIS has done: mass-beheadings of Christians; the attempted
genocide of Yazidis (a Kurdish religious tradition that blends aspects of
Zoroastrianism, Christianity and Islam); a systematic campaign of rape
against Christian and Yazidi women; Christian and Yazidi children sold children
into slavery. Trapped by ISIS on Mt. Sinjar, the Yazidis faced extermination in
summer 2014. “That’s when America came to help,” as President Obama explained. U.S.
cargo planes dropped pallets of food to sustain the Yazidis, while U.S. fighter-bombers
dropped ordnance to stop the ISIS assault. America’s military saved 40,000
Yazidis, who were attacked simply because of their religious beliefs.

This is only the most recent
example of America’s military promoting and protecting freedom of conscience. General
Lucius Clay ensured that Germany’s postwar constitution protected religious
freedom and freedom of conscience. Likewise, General Douglas MacArthur delivered
a constitution to the Japanese people that declared, “Freedom
of thought and conscience shall not be violated.”

In the Balkans, American troops have
protected churches and mosques alike, escorting Christian kids to school in the
morning and Muslim kids to the same school in the afternoon.

Fifteen years after the U.S. military ousted the
Taliban regime in Afghanistan, Freedom House reports that “Religious freedom has improved…faiths other than Islam are
permitted.” Christians, Sikhs, Hindus and Baha’is have served in
government. Hindu, Buddhist and Sikh places of worship are opened.

Finally, for those who benefit from globalization—and
Americans top that list—the U.S. military is essential to keeping the global
commons open for business. “The hidden hand of the market will never work
without a hidden fist,” Thomas Friedman observes. “And the hidden fist that
keeps the world safe…is called the United States Army, Air Force, Navy and
Marine Corps.” In other words, the liberal
international order forged after World War II did not emerge by accident and
does not endure by magic. It depends on America projecting power, backstopping
free government, promoting free trade, defending freedom of the seas and skies,
deterring aggressive states, and enforcing international norms of behavior.

In short, America is a great and
good nation; there’s no reason to lower the Stars and Stripes or ban “The Star
Spangled Banner.”

United

Even so, Goshen and
Hampshire have a right to slide down the slippery slope of moral relativism. That’s
one of the great things about America: College kids, professors, trustees,
voters, columnists have a right to be wrong—and foolish. But free speech does not give anyone the right to say or do
things free of consequence. Those of us who disagree with these schools have
the right to point out how utterly misguided and unequivocally wrong their
views and actions are. As one veteran notedafter the Hampshire College episode, “They took down my flag; they have a right
to do that; I’m here to defend their right to do that, but I want them to
understand how bad that hurts me.”

Thankfully, not everyone has succumbed to this
post-patriotic pandemic.

Like most universities, Purdue University has a pregame
tradition that includes the playing of “The Star Spangled Banner” and the
American flag flying at full-staff. For the
past 50 years, Purdue’s home football games also have included a stirring pre-kickoff
ritual known as “I Am an American.” With an arrangement of “America the
Beautiful” playing softly, fans are invited to rise and read the following
words: “I am an American. That’s the way most of us put it, just
matter-of-factly. They are plain words, those four: you could write them on
your thumbnail, or sweep them across a bright autumn sky. But remember too,
that they are more than just words. They are a way of life. So whenever you
speak them, speak them firmly, speak them proudly, speak them gratefully. I am
an American!”

When the crowd roars those last four
words, it’s a reminder that we are indeed united—no matter what college kids
are being taught, no matter who wins on Election Day.